Page 56 of Fate's Wicked Oath

“Just…” She waved a tired hand. “Don’t make this more awkward than it has to be.”

His smile was slow and smug. “Are you embarrassed of me?”

She took a single step closer, craning her neck as she fixed him with a cutting glare. “Your gender and presence are already enough to make them…assume. I’m asking you nicely not to make it worse.”

Faren stared down at her, relishing having the upper hand for once. He might’ve found her attractive, but even those confusing feelings—no, they were less than feelings, mereobservations—could not distract him from enjoying his newfound leverage. “Assume what?”

“Faren,” she hissed.

“Apologies,Ana,” Faren said, bouncing his eyebrows. “I can’t help my anatomy.”

With that, he sauntered down the rest of the stairs and into the busy kitchen.

21

Storybook Hero

Mariana

Leaving so soon?” came my mother’s voice as I rounded the corner into the conjoined kitchen and living space.

Her fists were on her hips, a frayed and faded apron cinched around her waist. She was surveying Faren’s armor, his readiness for departure. It was surreal, seeing him in my parents’ kitchen. His posture was relaxed, his smile warm and charming. His ability to walk into a room and immediatelybelongwas a foreign concept to a veritable exile like me; even in the place I belongedmost, it was Faren who seemed most at ease.

“I’d assumed we’d make haste,” Faren said, then glanced over his shoulder at me, still lurking by the banister. His eyes creased. “Anausually favors an early start.”

“Not here,” Bard called. My brother was seated on the floor, leaning back against the settee that faced the hearth, his socked feet extended out toward the fire. “Here, she tends to linger.”

Faren’s attention swept over my rumpled clothes and general lack of preparedness—not for the first time this morning. Therewas no judgement on his face, just his usual look of curiosity, like he was trying to figure me out. Only this morning, the expression was warmer. Softer. “Well, I’m in no hurry,” he declared finally, dropping his gear and scabbards by the front door.

“Wonderful.” My mother spun on a heel, busying herself with plates. “I’ve made breakfast. Let me just—”

“How can I help?” Faren asked.

The entire room seemed to inhale—a long, drawn-out pause. My father—seated in his usual cushioned chair by the window—lowered his book. My brother raised an eyebrow at me. My mother stopped short, her dark eyes sparkling.Oh, I would never hear the end of this.

“Handsomeandhelpful?” my mother said. “Where did you find him, Ana?”

“Picked him up like a tick from a field,” I mumbled.

A steaming teapot sat on the countertop, and I gravitated toward it. Poured myself a cup. Took a fortifying sip. I’d awoken barely ten minutes ago with the lingering disorientation of a deep sleep. My joints still felt stiff, limbs heavy.

I was not awake enough yet to dodge my family’s meaningful glances and incorrect assumptions.

Faren’s impossible-to-ignore presence wasn’t helping. In all his finery, he made the kitchen feel smaller—but not in a bad way. In fact, as he worked shoulder-to-shoulder with my mother, slicing her fresh-baked bread, he made the space feel full. I really didn’t need such a quaint image of him in my head.

I shuffled over to my brother and plopped down, stretching my legs out same as him. Heat from the hearth licked over my socks, and I leaned into my baby brother’s arm, savoring the fleeting comfort of his closeness. Sometimes I forgot how starved for warmth I was until I visited home.

“Where is your long-suffering wife?” I asked Bard.

“Suffering upstairs by sleeping in,” he replied. “It’s hard work, growing a whole other person.”

“Especially if it has your big head.”

In answer, he stole my tea and took a long, slurping sip.

I swiveled toward my father. “Have Pete and Orna risen?”

“Not yet.” He set his book aside, accepting a plate from Faren with a relaxed nod. “Thank you, son.”